


as i was going to st. clair

by wilfre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, References to Depression, Trans Character, there is... a lot going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfre/pseuds/wilfre
Summary: for the first time in his life, jeremy winds up in a psychiatric hospital. the other patients include: a gentle but grumpy giant, a loud, over-patriotic american, a one-eyed scot, a lanky loner, a snarky frenchman, a kind-hearted, soft-spoken texan, and a mysterious pyromaniac. though they all seem different on the outside, they have more in common than they know.





	as i was going to st. clair

**Author's Note:**

> i started this mid december. i just finished it now. i am very, very lazy and very, very relieved. enjoy the fruits of my labor

Roused by the bustle outside his room, he squinted through the sunlight and turned over, covering his eyes with the scratchy blanket. The chatter of nurses and clanking of machinery persisted.

A gentle knock on the doorframe. “Jeremy?”

He reluctantly peeked out from under the covers. A woman was patiently waiting just outside the room.

“Yeah?” He nearly cringed at how croaky his voice sounded. Stretching, he kicked the blankets off before sitting up. He fixed the pillow and was about to fold the blankets when the woman interrupted him.

“Oh, no need! Someone else will get that for you.” She pushed up her glasses, beckoning him over. “Come with me, please.”

Jeremy walked beside her as they traversed through the hall. He glanced around nervously at the unfamiliar building and the strange people inside of it.

“I’m Miss Pauling,” she explained, looking back at him with a friendly smile as she used her keycard to open another door. This place was extremely secure; every door, save the main entrance, was locked. It should have comforted him, but it just fed the flames of anxiety flickering in his chest. “I’m one of the many staff members here; you’ll meet the rest throughout the week.”

Throughout the _week?_ His heart sank. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to be here that long. He fidgeted with his thin scrubs during the painfully slow elevator ride.

“Nervous?”

Giving a shy nod, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself, at this whole situation. It was absurd. He wanted to go home, toss a ball around, be his normal self.

“Don’t be. We’re here to help,” she assured him. The elevator dinged. “It won’t be so bad. I promise.”

They stepped out, and he was lead to the nurses station of that floor. While Miss Pauling chatted with the lady behind it, Jeremy took in his surroundings. This would be his home for the next few days. To his right, there was a somewhat short hallway of bedrooms, a bathroom, and a day room. Behind him, a longer hallway of bedrooms, conference rooms, and a laundry room. A schedule was posted on the wall right around the corner of a rolling shutter and counter. In front of him, there were doors that led to other sections of the building. To the left, there was a bigger day room, and there were several men gawking at him through the glass. He gave an awkward wave, and was met with only one back.

“Hey.” He felt a hand on his shoulder; he turned, and Miss Pauling was holding out a towel with fresh clothes and a plastic container of toiletries resting on top. “Why don’t you take a shower, alright? Follow me.” Taking the items and trailing close behind, he hoped she wasn’t politely saying he stunk. She opened the shower door for him and held it open as he shuffled inside.

“I’ll check back in ten minutes, okay? No need to rush, everyone’s already showered this morning.”

He sighed as the door shut behind him, placing his things in the corner of the room. Stripping off his clothes and taking some shampoo and soap from the box, he stepped into the shower area. The cold water felt electric as it hit his skin; he hissed and backed up into the corner, waiting for it to warm up.

As the lukewarm water trickled over his skin, burning his several cuts and scrapes, he stared down at the floor. It still hadn’t entirely sunk in that he was there. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could pretend he was back in the shower at home. But without a brother or two banging on the bathroom door, it just wasn’t the same. He absentmindedly washed his hair, wishing he could open up his skull and give his brain a good scrub too.

Drying off and getting dressed, he bumped into Miss Pauling as he came out.

“Oh!” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear that had come loose from the minor collision. “I was just about to check up on you. Toss your old clothes and the towel in the hamper over there, here—” She took the box from his hands, placing it behind the counter of the nurses station. “Follow me.”

He already knew where this was going; he took a deep breath as he followed her into the day room. A staff member, who was weirdly burly for his position, paused upon their entrance.

“Everyone, this is Jeremy,” Miss Pauling announced, encouragingly pushing him to the front of the room. “Jeremy, go take a seat wherever, okay? I’ll be right back with your wristband. Mister Hale and the others will go over the rules for you.”

She exited, leaving Jeremy to timidly survey his options. There were five tables with four seats each; with seven others in total, there should’ve been three empty tables. However, they had congregated into two groups of three, with one person sitting alone. He quickly realized that the lone individual was the one who waved at him earlier, so he went and chose a seat next to them. They looked up for a moment, one eye peeking out from behind their hair, before shyly looking back down.

Mister Hale cleared his throat. “Right. Not to give you all flashbacks to the first day of school, but why don’t we go ‘round and introduce ourselves? Just say your names. Let’s start with you lot.” He pointed to the table closest to him.

“Mikhail,” the largest man began. His voice was low and grumbly. “Call me Misha.”

“Jane!” the next one bellowed with a salute.

The third man raised his cup of water in acknowledgement. “Tavish.” He had a bandage over his left eye, but it didn’t look like a fresh wound dressing. Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder what happened.

Onto the next table. A man who looked too lanky for his chair began, “Just call me Mundy.”

An equally lanky man was next. “Jacques,” he offered flatly, not even bothering to glance in Jeremy’s direction. French accent. It seemed everyone so far, save Jane, originated from another country. Weird.

“I’m Dell,” the last one of the table said, giving Jeremy a warm smile. He was quite a bit bulkier than the other two, and shorter too, looking like a shrub between two trees.

That left the person at Jeremy’s table. “Angel,” they mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. “But I like Pyro better.”

Jeremy gave them a reassuring nod. “Pyro it is, then.”

It wasn’t a mystery how they came to choosing that name; the skin that Jeremy could see (which wasn’t a lot, considering their pants, long sleeved shirt, and hair covering their face) was covered in burns. A majority were healed, but he caught a few fresh ones on their wrist, along with healing cuts. They noticed his gaze and rolled their sleeve up; he murmured an apology before tracing his fingers along his own scars.

“Will someone go over the rules and expectations, please?” Mister Hale requested. Jane enthusiastically raised his hand.

“No fighting!” he barked. “Do not fight or argue with staff members or fellow patients! Be respectful at all times! This includes not touching others! And—”

“Alright, Jane, that’s enough. Very good, thank you. Someone else?”

Jacques sat up. “Follow the schedule. Complete your hygiene in the morning or at night. Take your medication, if you have any. Clean up after yourself; if you do not keep a tidy environment there will be consequences.”

“Good. We’ll elaborate on the schedule in a moment. Next?”

“Wear your wristband and clean, appropriate clothin’ at all times,” Mundy continued. “You can wear your own clothes if they’re considered safe. No contraband like hoodie strings.”

Man, Jeremy really missed his own wardrobe. He plucked at his plain, oversized shirt. He’d have to call his ma and ask her to bring down some things.

“Good. Can someone give examples of contraband?”

Pyro, surprisingly, raised their hand. “Anything that can be used to hurt someone or yourself. Sharp objects, drawstrings, glass, belts, lighters..” They trailed off into a murmur about fire.

Mister Hale nodded. “Alright. The schedule is posted beside the nurse’s station. Loosely, you wake up, do your hygiene, get meds if you have any, then wait outside the day room. A staff member will let you in when it’s breakfast time. After you eat, you set a goal for the day, then we head down to expressive therapy. After that is a group, time in the gym, lunch, time outside, another group, then— Ah, forgot to mention! You have time for relaxation and phone calls after the first group. Anyway, where was I.. Right; after the second group is more relaxation and phone time, dinner, then free time. Durin’ free time, you can do your hygiene if you didn’t in the mornin’. After free time is closin’ group, where you review your day and see if you accomplished your goal.”

Jeremy blinked, processing the information. It was a lot to take in, but he figured he’d get the hang of it.

“Let’s see.. we’re uhhh..” Mister Hale looked at his watch. “Where were we?”

“Snack time,” Misha piped up. “Between group and gym.”

“Ah, he missed the first group! That’s alright, there’s always the second one.” Mister Hale beamed. “You’ll be just fine, Jeremy.”

The soft _click_ of the door unlocking got their attention. Miss Pauling entered, hurrying over to Jeremy. She secured a red, plastic wristband around his forearm. It had his name, birthdate, date he was admitted, and some numbers he couldn’t make sense of, as well as a name: Dr. Ludwig.

“Your doctor will see you sometime today,” she explained, pushing up her glasses. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll probably see you tomorrow, if not later today. Ah, geez—” She picked up the pen she had dropped, then practically made a break for the door. “Bye, see you guys!”

“Bye, Miss Pauling!” a bunch of them chorused. Mister Hale took another glance at his watch.

“Hm. We’re a bit behind schedule. Did I give out your snacks?” The patients, empty handed, simply glared at him in response. “Guess not. Say, I’ll just give ‘em out durin’ lunch, alright? Let’s start headin’ down, I don’t want you all to miss out on your exercise.”

They began standing up and pushing their chairs in before lining up at the door. Jeremy followed suit, and they were all promptly marched down to the gymnasium.

“What do you guys want?” Mister Hale called out, rifling through the storage room. He tossed out a few hula-hoops. “Basketballs?”

“Aye, I’ll take one.” Tavish held his hands up and was tossed a ball. He dribbled away, Jane following close behind. Pyro picked up a hula-hoop before retreating to a corner.

“Hey, uhh..” Jeremy sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he approached the staff member. “We ever play baseball ‘round here?”

Mister Hale looked back at him. “No, not with bats, for obvious reasons. You can still play catch, though.”

Jeremy caught the baseball as it was carefully thrown to him. He tossed it up and down in his hand as he continued his interrogation. “Not even with little foam bats? Plastic ones?” The other man shook his head, handing Jacques a yoga mat.

“Nope. Sorry, mate. It’s technically a weapon, no matter what material it’s made out of.”

Jeremy walked away before he could counter that _anything_ could be a weapon, even the cheap baseball he was holding. He didn’t wanna have the reputation for being a smartass or get on the staff’s bad side on day one.

“What are you allergic to?”

He jumped, spinning around to see who was talking. Mundy stood before him, looking down at the other man’s wrist. Jeremy instinctively hid it, holding it to his chest.

“What?”

“Your wristband.” He pointed. “It’s red. That means you’re allergic to something.”

“Oh.” He lowered his arms. “I’m lactose intolerant and I have like, seasonal allergies and stuff.”

Mundy nodded, holding up his arm to showcase his own red wristband. “I’m allergic to cats and peanuts. I don’t mind the cat bit as much, but the peanut part sucks, especially when every single night we have bloody PB&Js for a snack.”

“Ouch.” Jeremy chuckled, loosening up a bit. “Yeah, that sucks. I guess I can eat dairy without dyin’, but I’ll get real sick. That don’t stop me from eatin’ ice cream, though.”

A faint smile tugged at Mundy’s lips. Dell whistled as he passed by.

“I’ll be damned! You got the ol’ grump to smile. Nice work, newcomer.”

“Ah, shut up, you gremlin!” Mundy spat as the other man walked away, but his smile had spread into a grin. He turned back to Jeremy. “First time in a place like this?”

He nodded meekly. “Yeah. It’s.. really weird. I wish I was home right now.”

“Ah, don’t we all,” Mundy snickered. “Well, if you ever have any questions or you need anythin’.. Err, go to Dell first. He’s a good guy, real nice and friendly. Not sure how he ended up in this dump.”

“Dump?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Well, it ain’t my ideal place to be, but it seems nice. I’ll give it that.”

The other man smirked, backing up and gesturing for Jeremy to toss him the ball. “Once you’ve wasted weeks of your life away in these buildings, you won’t be thinkin’ that.” He caught it, throwing it back with more force than Jeremy anticipated.

“So.. what’s the scoop on the others?”

Glancing around the room, everyone seemed to be stable and having a good time. Tavish, Jane, and Misha were engaged in an intense game of basketball. Jacques and Dell were settled on the yoga mats, sitting back and chatting amongst themselves until Mister Hale told them they had to _do_ something. Pyro was keeping to themself in the corner, but seemingly having the time of their life, spinning several hula-hoops around their body at once. Mundy followed his gaze.

“Bet you wanna know about Pyro first, huh? I wish I could tell you, mate, but I barely have the slightest clue about ‘em myself.” The ball continued in a steady back-and-forth between them. “They’ve been here the longest, that’s for sure. From the mumbles durin’ groups I could decipher, they’ve got a whole lot goin’ on. Anxiety, self harm, hallucinations, that sort of thing.”

Pausing to gather his thoughts, Mundy tossed the ball in his hands.

“Jane and Misha, aggression; Tavish, depression and anxiety; Dell and Jacques, I’m not sure. They seem just fine to me. But there’s always somethin’ underneath the surface, eh?”

Jeremy nodded. “So what are you here for?”

“Suicide attempt.”

“Oh.” If someone was here, there was bound to be an unhappy story behind it, but he wasn’t expecting something so drastic. “...You okay?”

“I’m dealin’.” He shrugged. “What about you, mate?”

Jeremy scratched at his wrist. “Same thing.”

Mundy frowned, hesitating to throw the ball. He let it drop to the ground. “C’mon, let’s go make you some friends.” Making sure to check Mister Hale wasn’t watching, he took Jeremy by the hand and led him over to Jacques and Dell. Jeremy sheepishly waved to them while the other man confidently took a seat.

“Hey!” Dell invitingly patted the space next to him. “Jeremy, was it? I’m Dell—ah, I suppose you’ve already been told a few times. Oh well, anyway, nice to meet you.”

“It’s been a while since we got a new person,” Jacques commented, stretching his long legs.

“How long have you guys been here?” the newcomer asked, beginning to come out of his shell. The three others shared a knowing glance.

“Too long,” Jacques grumbled.

“A week and a half.” Dell happily bounced his legs against the mat. “I think I’m gettin’ discharged soon. I’m ready to get outta here.”

Mundy grimaced. “Try three weeks.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I’d rather not.” He cleared his throat, picking at his wristband. “So why are you guys here, anyway?”

“Anxiety.” Dell plucked at the seams of the mat. “And self harm, I guess. Somethin’ like that. I was just actin’ real impulsively and kept hurtin’ myself.”

Jeremy and Mundy looked expectantly at Jacques. He shifted uncomfortably. “Personal issues.”

“Well duh!” the younger man exclaimed, demonstrating his inability to read social cues. “What issues specifically?”

Jacques visibly tensed. “I do not wish to discuss them right now.”

“Aw, why not?”

Dell raised his hand to stop him. “Hey, leave it, son,” he warned mildly.

“Oh. Sorry.” He continued to fiddle with his wristband. “I’m here for a suicide attempt.” Dell offered a sympathetic smile. Jeremy looked over at Pyro before clearing his throat. “Either of you two know the deal with him?”

“Them,” Jacques corrected.

“What?”

“They’re not a boy. They go by ‘them’.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Okay. You know what’s up with them, though?”

The other two shook their heads. “Your guess is as good as mine,” Dell said. Their gazes all wandered over to the mysterious individual, alone in the corner. They were turned away from everyone else, seemingly content with hula-hooping by themself. As Jeremy watched the colorful rings spin around and around, there was a strange, unexplainable weight in his chest. He was dizzy, and he wanted to go home.

 

Everyone settled at their tables, quietly chatting and patiently waiting for lunch to arrive. Jeremy fiddled with the water dispenser in their room for a moment before figuring out how to use it; he filled up a small cup before taking a seat next to Pyro.

“‘Sup,” he murmured. Their head shifted slightly. They picked at the ripped up pieces of their own styrofoam cup. “You uhhh, you alright? Wanna talk about anythin’?”

They shook their head, an incomprehensible mumble coming from behind their thick hair. He wasn’t sure if they were saying no to being alright or to wanting to talk, but he didn’t press it further.

The door opened, and a large cart was wheeled into the room. Jeremy’s mouth watered; he could smell the familiar aroma of chicken. He licked his lips and tapped his fingers on the table.

“Jeremy, you missed breakfast, come get your tray first,” Mister Hale said. Jeremy wasted no time in standing up and going to receive his food. He sat back down as the others were called up. Removing the plastic cloche from his tray, he started wolfing down the chicken nuggets on sight. Pyro paused from playing with their fries and watched in amazement as he devoured everything on his plate.

Dell, who hadn’t even sat down yet, huffed in surprise as he witnessed the show. “Geez, someone’s hungry!”

“Nah, what makes you say that?” Jeremy replied through a mouthful of fries, some crumbs escaping from his smirk.

They all finished up their lunches and returned their trays to the cart. With a few minutes to spare before they went outside, the patients chatted amongst themselves, save Jeremy and Pyro. Pyro preferred to keep to themself and pick at their wristband.

“Psst.”

Jeremy glanced behind him. Tavish was refilling his water cup.

“Hey, ye wanna play basketball when we go outside?”

He was surprised that someone wanted anything to do with him; he didn’t know what to say for a moment. “Oh, uhh, yeah! I ain’t any good at basketball though.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Tavish gave a dismissive wave of his hand, “None of us are professionals. Don’t sweat it, lad.” He headed back to his seat, leaving Jeremy to mimic Pyro and fiddle with his wristband.

 

Jeremy shuddered as he stepped outside, the warm sunlight hitting his skin. God, it felt good.

Tavish, Misha, and Jane immediately raced to the basketball court. Jeremy smirked. Amateurs.

He quickly stretched his legs before breaking into a sprint, easily surpassing the other three men. They gaped at him as he picked up the ball.

“Yeah, not to brag or anythin’,” he said, trying (and failing) to spin the ball on his finger, “but I’m kinda fast.”

Jacques snorted as he walked past, “Not a skill that _women_ would find impressive.”

“...Hey!”

“Don’t mind him, son,” Dell added as he followed. “He’s all hat and no cattle.”

“He’s all.. wuh?”

“All bark and no bite!” Jane hollered, “The _true_ American saying!”

“..I think Texans are Americans too,” Misha murmured, mostly to Tavish and Jeremy.

Jeremy tossed the ball in his hands. “So are we doing like, teams of two? Or every man for himself, or…”

“Hmm. How about…” Tavish went and stood next to Jane. “Me and Janey on a team, and ye and Misha. That balances things out, I think.”

Jeremy nodded. “Sweet.” He tossed the ball to Tavish, since he had no idea what to do with it. “Play ball! Or whatever you say in basketball.”

“Aye, Mister Hale!” Tavish called, “Can ye do the jump ball for us?”

Mister Hale made his way over to them, graciously accepting the ball.

“Jane, ye wanna do it?”

Jane grinned, cracking his knuckles and stepping up to Mister Hale’s side. He eyed Jeremy challengingly. “C’mere, cupcake.”

“Uhh, yeah, alright!” He stepped up to the other side.

“Wait, before we start— Let’s make things easier for Jeremy, yeah? Let’s just go to ten points and every basket is one point. None of that three-point, two-point shi— stuff.”

Jeremy nodded. Easy enough, right? Except, uhh, what the hell was a jump ball?

“Uhh, what exactly are we doin’ right here?” He gestured to Mister Hale and Jane. “Like, what do I do?”

“Mister Hale throws ball up,” Misha explained, positioning himself outside the circle, opposite of Jeremy. “You and Jane both try to tip ball to teammate. Tip to me!”

“Oh, okay. Got it.”

Mister Hale looked at both of them. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Jane roared.

“Ready! C’mon, let’s do this! Play ball, or whatever they s—”

“Jeremy!” Misha yelled.

“Wh—” He didn’t notice the ball had already been thrown. “OH! Shoot, uh—” He jumped, trying to reach it, but Jane had already pushed it towards Tavish.

Jeremy wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He quickly reached out and slapped the ball away before Tavish could grab it. It flew away from Misha, but that was fine; Jeremy rushed to pick it up. With everyone screaming, not even particularly at him, he frantically tossed the ball towards Misha.

Sidestepping Jane, Misha caught the ball and started dribbling towards the hoop. Unsure of how to help, Jeremy just tried his best to protect his huge teammate from their opponents. Misha reached the hoop, preparing for the shot…

...And he doesn’t score.

The ball bounced off the rim and found its way into Jeremy’s hands. He closed his eyes, realized that was stupid, opened them again, then finally stretched his arms out and took the shot.

They all watched as the ball spun around the inside of the hoop before slowly dropping down through the net.

The court was silent. Birds chirped in the distance, cars rumbled past just outside the fence, the swings creaked, and the other patients chatted amongst themselves — but none of the four players made a peep.

Until they all erupted into cheers.

Even Jane and Tavish celebrated their rivals’ minor victory.

“I could kiss you, little man!” Misha cried, going to wrap his arms around Jeremy but remembering the no touching rule and throwing them up in the air instead.

Jeremy grinned, unable to contain his joy. “Geez, at least take me out to dinner first!”

He was warm.

 

After the game, which Jane and Tavish had won (but that was okay), the four of them gathered in the shade to relax. They paused their conversation upon hearing the click of a door opening. Peering past Tavish, Jeremy saw Miss Pauling exiting the building.

Mister Hale stood up and stretched before picking up his clipboard. “Right. See you lot tomorrow!”

“Bye, Mister Hale!” a majority of the patients chorused. As Mister Hale withdrew back into the building, Miss Pauling took his place at the table. She waved to them, but looked at Jeremy in particular.

“You guys have fifteen minutes left,” she announced, finding her place in her book. “Make ‘em count!”

“So,” Misha rumbled, “what are you here for, little man?”

The other two looked at Jeremy expectantly. “Me?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, who else would you be talking about— Right. Okay. I’m uhh, here for.. a suicide attempt.”

“Oh.” Misha fumbled with his hands. “Sorry. Am here for aggression.”

Jane awkwardly looked the other way, pretending to be entranced with the grass. Jeremy almost flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Yer not alone, lad,” Tavish assured him, a genuine and empathetic look on his face. “Don’t worry, y—”

“Tavish!” Miss Pauling warned. Tavish quickly took his hand off Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Sorry! ...Anyway, yer gonna be okay. We’re all here for ye.”

“Is true,” Misha said. “Everyone here is supportive.”

Jeremy smiled. He glanced over at Jane to see if he had anything to add. He was picking his nose. Jeremy pretended not to see.

“Thanks, guys. It means a lot.” He plucked at the petals of a nearby dandelion. “This is my first time in a place like this. I’m not usually.. like this, y’know? It’s weird bein’ all quiet and shy. I’m usually like, annoyin’ everyone around me.”

Tavish chuckled. “I’m sure yer not annoyin’.”

Jeremy laughed softly with him. “That’s what my brothers say, at least. All seven of ‘em.”

All of the other men’s eyes widened. Tavish gaped, “ _Seven?_ ”

“I have three sisters,” Misha murmured, eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “And I thought that was many. Could not imagine having four more.”

“Sorry, son,” Jane suddenly piped up, surprising all three of them. “About earlier, I mean. Not about the brothers. What you said about why you’re here. I.. tried that once. Everyone told me I was a coward, I was weak.. all that. And I believed those maggots! It’s still kinda.. ingrained in my brain, y’know? I had to stop myself from lashing out at you. I guess that’s why I’m here, huh? My dumb anger issues..”

Misha frowned. “Your issues are not dumb.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re here for the same thing,” he growled back, putting his head in his hands. “...I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t feel.. _troubled_ enough to be here. Like I’m fake and a wuss!”

“Hey, Misha’s right, Janey,” Tavish agreed with the other man. “Don’t think like that. We’re all here for good reason, and we’re here to get help. Yer problems are valid, lad.”

Jane sighed, looking up. “Yeah, you two are right… Thanks.”

There was a silence between them. Not an uncomfortable one; just blankness.

“So,” Jeremy eventually said. “So uhhh, what’s with the…” Looking at Tavish, he gestured to his eye.

“I looked at a wizard’s magic book and got cursed,” Tavish replied without hesitation. A beat. “Nah, just messin’ with ye. Bar fight got a bit messy.”

“So you got no eye under there at all?”

“Nope. Wanna see?”

“Nah, I’ll pass.” Jeremy brushed off an ant that was crawling on his ankle. “..Actually, can I?”

Tavish peeled back the bandage a bit, then gently pulled his eyelids apart. Empty. And gross.

“Ew!” After his quick peek, Jeremy covered his eyes. “Sorry.”

Tavish chuckled. “Yeah, it is pretty gr—”

“PYRO!”

The four men looked towards the source of the commotion. Miss Pauling had been the one who yelled and was now marching over towards the aforementioned patient. Peering past Jane and Misha, Jeremy saw the unmistakable sparks of a fire. It was quickly snuffed out under Miss Pauling’s heel.

“I’m sorry, Pyro, but you know you can’t be doing that here! It’s dangero— Come on, don’t cry, you’re not.. in _too_ much trouble.”

The other patients just watched as Pyro embraced Miss Pauling and sniffled into her chest. She simply patted their hair in response, as if this had happened before.

“Come on, everyone.” She began shuffling towards the table to pick up her clipboard, Pyro still hanging onto her. “Let’s go back inside.”

 

Back inside the day room, the patients began arranging the chairs in a half circle. A bit confused, Jeremy hung back and refilled his water cup. There was a distinct squeak of a dry erase marker uncapping.

“Jeremy, what’s your goal for today?”

Jeremy stared back at Miss Pauling, then to the board; there was a goal listed next to everybody’s name. He looked over a few of them. Jane, control outbursts; Dell, focus on treatment; Pyro, control self and follow rules.. Looks like they failed that one.

“Uhhhhhhh.. get to know everyone better?”

Miss Pauling grinned, beginning to write it down. “That’s a good goal! Alright, everyone please take a seat.”

She pulled her own chair up to the front before quickly shuffling to the opposite side of the room; she opened the cupboard and produced a box of snacks. Going around the semicircle and starting with Jacques, she began passing them out.

“Hey.”

Jeremy looked over; Mundy was settling in the seat next to him.

“I _strongly_ recommend you don’t take one of the apple cinnamon bars,” he murmured, “they’re god-awful. Dry, crumbly, don’t even taste that good.. Ask for an apple instead. A bit mushy, but way better.”

“Ehh… They can’t be too bad, can they?”

“See for yourself. Or taste, rather.”

Miss Pauling arrived in front of them, presenting the box. Jeremy graciously accepted the aforementioned bar. Sniper was wise enough not to.

Peeling open the wrapper, crumbs immediately began spilling onto Jeremy’s lap. Instant karma, or regret, or something like that.

A new woman entered the room; a staff member, beaming with excitement.

“Hey guys!” The patients replied with a collective “hi” as the woman uncapped a dry erase marker. “How are you all today? Ooh! I see we have a newcomer..” She eyed Jeremy, who in turn awkwardly waved. “Well, I’m Margaret, but you can call me Maggie or Mags if you like.”

Turning to the board, she started writing something in big blue letters. When she moved aside, it was revealed: “COPING MECHANISMS”.

“Today, we’re goin’ to talk about coping mechanisms. Can I have some examples of healthy coping mechanisms?”

As Miss Pauling took a seat, she looked around at the patients, who conveniently avoided eye contact. Unluckily for Jeremy, he accidentally met her gaze for a split second; she locked onto him, and Maggie followed her gaze, looking expectantly at him.

“Umm..” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry if this is a stupid question, but.. what’s a coping mechanism?”

“Textbook definition,” Jane bellowed, “a coping mechanism is a strategy that is used in the face of stress or trauma to help manage painful or difficult emotions! Like physical activity!”

Maggie nodded, writing “exercise” on the board. “That’s a good one.”

“Oh.” Jeremy blinked. “So like baseball and stuff are coping mechanisms?”

Maggie nodded again. “That’s right. Can I have more examples?”

“Cooking,” Misha contributed.

“Playin’ an instrument.”

“Reading.”

“Build somethin’!”

“Color..”

Before long there was a list spanning the vertical length of the board.

“Alright. Now,” Maggie said, “can I have some examples of unhealthy coping mechanisms?”

Many people indiscreetly looked in Pyro’s direction. They shuffled their feet on the floor, picking at their nails.

“..Fire.”

“Uhh, self harm,” Jeremy shyly added.

“Smoking.”

“Drinkin’..”

“Overeating?”

Maggie nodded, compiling a new list. She sat down and took her clipboard out, looking intently at the patients. “Right. Now… Let’s go around; say your name and _your_ favorite coping mechanism. If you have more than one, that’s great! Feel free to share as much as you want.”

Jacques sighed, being the closest to Maggie and therefore the first person to go. “Jacques. I prefer reading.”

“Misha. I like to read or cook.”

“Dell. I like workin’ on projects, obviously, but I feel like playin’ guitar is a lot more calmin’.”

“Jeremy, uhh, baseball!”

“Mundy. Playin’ saxophone or spendin’ time outdoors.”

“Pyro.. drawing..”

“Tavish, Tav for short, Tavish Finnegan DeGroot for long. Ehh, I dunno, probably watchin’ TV or listenin’ to music.”

“Jane! Physical training is the _best_ and certainly most rewarding coping mechanism!”

“Good!” Maggie scribbled a few notes on her clipboard, as did Miss Pauling. “Now—”

The door opened, an older woman barely peeking in, just enough to whisper something to Miss Pauling. The younger woman nodded, and the other was gone before anyone knew it.

“Hey. Jeremy.” She stood up and beckoned him over, and he tentatively padded towards her. “Your doctor’s ready for you. Come on, I’ll take you down.”

Venturing out into the hall by Miss Pauling's side, Jeremy was led down to the very end of it. The exit doors were _right_ there.. Locked, of course, and he would no doubt be unable to navigate the maze of a building, but his hands twitched nonetheless.

"Go on in." Miss Pauling held the door open. "Just come back to the day room when you're done."

Jeremy nodded and stepped inside. Rounding the corner, a man he assumed was his doctor came into view.

"Good afternoon, Jeremy!" The man pushed his glasses up, which, in Jeremy's opinion, looked a little too small for his face. He gestured to the chair across from him, "Come on, take a seat."

Settling into the uncomfortable chair, Jeremy eyed the other man as he shuffled through various papers. From the few words that were said to him, he could tell the doctor had an accent, but he couldn't quite place where it was from yet. The hospital must've been starting a collection of non-Americans or something.

"So. I am Dr. Ludwig, and I'll be your doctor during your stay." Dr. Ludwig picked out a particular sheet and examined it thoroughly, gaze continuously flickering between the page and Jeremy. "You are here for a suicide attempt?"

Jeremy sheepishly nodded. "Yeah."

The doctor frowned. "I'm sorry. It says here you've never been on any medications for depression, correct?"

Another nod.

"Alright. Besides your suicidal thoughts, are you experiencing any other problems? Eating, sleeping, anything?"

He thought for a moment.

"Well, I guess I have trouble sleepin' sometimes. That's probably just because of all the sugar I have durin' the day or somethin'."

"I see. Well, we're going to start you on an antidepressant—"

"Wait, what? Do I really need that?"

Dr. Ludwig pushed up his glasses. "We need to see if it will help—which I think it will. But—"

"But like, I ain't depressed or anythin'. It was kinda just.. I don't know. I didn't.. I'm not depressed!"

"Jeremy, depression isn't always just being sad all the time. It manifests in many different ways." He pointed to the sheet. "You said before the incident, you had lost interest in many of the things you previously loved doing."

Jeremy sunk in his chair. He didn't wanna believe he was depressed. He never thought this would be him. "..I guess."

"We're going to start you on an antidepressant, alright? When it's time for meds, line up with the other patients. I'll talk to the nurse and let her know. We'll start with citalopram for now, and if it works, we'll increase the dosage. If not, we'll switch to something else. If you have any trouble sleeping tonight, let the nurse know tomorrow and we can put you on melatonin. Got it?"

He took a moment to process everything. "Yeah, got it. Thanks, doc."

Dr. Ludwig smiled, beginning to file the papers away. "You are free to go. I'll see you again in a few days to check up."

Jeremy nodded, pushing his chair in and practically power-walking out the door. He glanced at the clock; jeez, he had been in there for 20 minutes?! That definitely did not sound right. Time must've been warped in this building.

He gently knocked on the day room door. Miss Pauling let him in; Maggie was gone, and the chairs were back at the tables.

"Just in time for leftover snacks!" she chimed.

He chose an apple this time.

 

Relaxation time.

Which really meant: go to your room and take a nap.

Especially for Jeremy.

Being a newcomer; he didn't have anything in his room yet. No magazines or books to read (which was fine, since reading was kinda hard anyway), no comics (okay, THAT sucked), nothing. As he entered his room, he frowned at the absolute blankness of his side. The other side, however, was proudly decorated with various sticky notes and doodles. The small end shelf was full of papers, coloring books, comics, and origami.

He wondered who his roommate was.

He didn't have to wonder for long; Pyro shyly padded into the room. Oh yeah, duh!—They had mentioned how they loved coloring and drawing.

"Hey," Jeremy said.

"..Hi." Pyro walked over to their bed, sitting and curling up in a large, fluffy blanket. Must've brought it from home.

“So uhh..” He sat on the edge of his bed, the other looking up from fiddling with their origami. “You like comics?”

A small nod. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool.” An awkward cough. He tapped his fingers against the wall. “I like your drawings. I draw sometimes too. I’m kinda good at it, I guess. Maybe we should like, draw somethin’ together or somethin’, I dunno.”

Pyro’s face barely peeked out through their thick hair, but he could see a smile tugging at their lips. This was good. This was progress.

“So.. What do you like to draw?”

“Umm..” Pyro plucked at their blanket for a moment before slowly unwrapping themself and pulling out a few papers from their shelf. They held out the pages to Jeremy.

“Oh wow.” He flipped through the small stack. They were mostly crude but endearing doodles of childlike things; rainbows, unicorns, stick people, etc. “These are cool. I’d show you mine, but, y’know. I don’t have anythin’ right now. Maybe I’ll draw somethin’ later.” He handed the papers back. To his surprise, Pyro rushed back to their self and pulled out more papers and origami. They excitedly held everything out to Jeremy.

He smiled as he looked through it all. More childish doodles. There were a few dark ones involving fire and other stuff they’d probably get in trouble for if a staff member saw, but he was just gonna pretend he didn’t see them. “These are real neat, man— Er, not man. Sorry. I dunno. Anyway, yeah, these are sweet!” He gave the papers back and started to delicately inspect the origami. “Yo, do you do this stuff in expressive therapy? These are freakin’ awesome!”

He went to give it back, but Pyro refused.

“For you.”

“Really?” He grinned the hardest he had that day. "Thanks, pal."

Pyro retreated back to their bed, and Jeremy snuggled up on his as well. He closed his eyes, enjoying how the beam of sunlight through the window brought a gentle warmth to his skin.

"Jeremy?!"

He begrudgingly opened his eyes, trudging out to the doorway.

"Yeah?!"

"Phone call, second phone!"

Oh! He excitedly speed-walked down the hall, turning the corner to the phones. Misha was on the first phone, Tavish on the third, and Mundy on the fourth.

"Nyet. Stop asking if cute boys here. How is mama?"

"Ma, there's—Ach, ma, listen—Yes, I've been eatin' me vegetables—"

"Yeah, I'm makin' friends, I guess. But we're all in the loony bin to get better, not get friends… Are there g— Dad, I'm not lookin' for a bloody girlfriend in this place! For the last time—"

Jeremy picked up the second phone, and was immediately bombarded with relieved cries and several questions from his mom: Are you okay? Did you get enough sleep? Are they feedin' you? Are the other people there mean? Did you make any friends?

He could hear his brothers in the background trying to butt in with questions of their own. He leaned against the wall with a smile.

"Hey, ma."

 

Dinner was eventful as psych ward mealtime could be. The patients sat and ate quietly, watching the news and occasionally making a comment.

Once everything was cleaned up, Miss Pauling unlocked the cabinets and brought out cards, bins of crayons, markers, and pencils, as well as a folder full of paper and coloring pages. She set them all on her table.

“Well, go nuts.”

Jacques and Tavish headed to the showers; Pyro and Jeremy took a few pieces of paper and coloring pages; and Jane, Misha, Dell, and Mundy all played cards.

Jeremy picked at the wrapper of a gray crayon. “Hey, Pyro.” They looked up. “Do you wanna like, collaborate or whatever it’s called? Like, I’ll draw somethin’ and you can color it?”

Pyro nodded excitedly. Jeremy traded his crayon for a pencil.

“Okay. Cool. Gimme a minute.”

He wanted to draw something Pyro would like; problem was, he didn’t know much about them. From what he saw earlier, he knew they must like unicorns a _lot_. Did they ever get sick of unicorns? What about other mythical creatures? Would they like dragons? Jeremy’s forte was humans, but hey, for Pyro, he’d give something else a shot.

He couldn’t really recall what dragons looked like. He slowly sketched the head; it ended up looking kinda like a horse. Whoops. He added some horns to even it out.

Dragons had wings, right? Duh. Okay. Cool. And a tail? Yeah. Alright.

“Well, uh, here you go.” He slid the paper across the table to Pyro, who accepted it with glee. While they colored, he drew something for himself.

“Wow.”

Jeremy nearly jumped; he turned around, and Dell standing behind him.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “Didn't mean to scare you. Anyway, you’ve got a real knack for art, son.”

“Really? Heh, thanks.”

“I draw a lot, too. But not people or anythin’ cool like you’re doin’. Just blueprints and stuff.”

“Blueprints?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

Dell sat next to him, taking a piece of paper from the stack. “Outside of this dumb buildin’, I’m an engineer.”

“Really? Cool.” Jeremy refined the outline of his sketch. “I don’t have much of a job. I’m a cashier at a chicken place, but once I get outta here, they’ll probably give me the boot.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand your absence.”

“Eh. Maybe. It’s more than just bein’ here though; I’ve kinda been slackin’ off lately. Even if they fire me, it’s probably for the best. I need a better job anyway.”

“Hm. Fair enough.” Dell started drawing an attempt at a human. It was not very good.

The other two sat quietly and tended to their art, Dell humming as he traded out his paper for a coloring page.

After a while, there was a knock on the door; Miss Pauling opened it and let Tavish in. He brushed his semi-wet hair out of his face before walking over to their able and clapping Dell on the back (which earned a glare from Miss Pauling). “What are ‘y’all’ up to?” he asked, poking fun at Dell’s accent.

Dell pretended to swat at him, grinning nonetheless. “Ah, quit it, kilt boy! Anyway, we’re drawin’ stuff. Well, actually only Jeremy’s drawin’ stuff—me and Pyro are just colorin’.”

“Aye. Gimme a page.” Tavish took the last seat, accepting a coloring page from Dell. “I’m gonna color the best darn princess ye’ve ever seen.”

“Why is everyone over here?” Misha grumbled, “What is so interesting? Oh. Art. Hmm. Very good pictures.”

“Ye wanna join?” Tavish raised his eyebrows, invitingly holding out a coloring sheet to him.

“Eh. Not enough room at table. No good at art anyway. Not as good as little man, at least.”

Jeremy grinned sheepishly; all this attention was a bit unexpected. He didn’t really know how to handle it, but he liked it.

“Ye know ye want tooooooo..”

“I—”

He was interrupted by yelling from the lobby. Without hesitation, Miss Pauling leapt out of her seat and went to investigate. The patients, eyes wide, all tried to get a peek of the source of the commotion. From the transparent day room walls, they could see Jacques in distress, but nobody could tell what it was about.

“Someone should go check on him,” Mundy offered plainly, setting a card down on top of Jane’s.

Dell frowned. “Ain’t we supposed to stay in here? We’ll probably get points taken if we leave the day room without permission.”

Everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

Jeremy shrugged and put his crayons down, standing up and pushing his chair in. “Screw it, I’ll go check.”

Tavish nodded in mock solemnity. “Yer a brave lad.”

Jeremy tentatively opened the door, and was immediately greeted with shouting; both from Jacques, and from Miss Pauling and the other staff member trying to calm him.

“I _cannot_ wear this! I—”

“Jacques, please lower your voice, it’s really not that bad—”

“ _Not that bad?_ How would you know!? I don’t even care how many points are taken off for this; I simply can’t—”

“Hey uhh,” Jeremy interjected awkwardly. “Anything I can help with?”

Miss Pauling glared at him; it was a bit frightening, considering she had been nothing but sweet and understanding all day. “Jeremy, you aren’t supposed to be out here.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, “I just felt bad and wanted to help out.”

Miss Pauling looked to Jacques, to Jeremy, and back again. She let out an exasperated sigh, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes. He couldn’t blame her; she must have to put up with a _lot._ “You have a good heart, I’ll give you that. But this is my job, not yours. And—”

“C’mon, gimme a chance?” he pleaded. She stared at him flatly. This wasn’t going as well as he wanted it to. He turned to Jacques, “What’s the problem?”

He too glared at Jeremy, the beginning of a frown tugging at his lips. “...Fine, I’ll humor you. My shirt is too small.”

Jeremy looked him up and down. “Well, uh, what about it? It fits, right?”

Jacques scowled, folding his arms and covering his chest. “I can put it on, yes, but.. You can see parts of me that I do not wish to be seen. I need a larger shirt.”

“Whaddaya mean ‘parts’? Like, excuse me Miss Pauling, like.. your nipples? Hey, don’t tell Jane, but I can see his too, so you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

“No, it’s not my.. Ugh. Let me put it straightforwardly, since you won’t get it otherwise. I have breasts.”

“...Like, moobs?”

Miss Pauling was trying very hard to not let it show how funny she found Jeremy’s obliviousness.

“No. Breasts.”

“..........How?”

Jacques groaned. “Jeremy, remember how I told you Pyro goes by ‘them’? That’s because they don’t identify with the gender they were born as, and neither do I. I was born a woman.”

“Oh. So you got like..” His eyes trailed downwards. “Like, a p—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Miss Pauling cut in. “Let’s not be invasive. Be respectful, Jeremy.”

“Oh. Sorry. Well, uh, anyway. Back to your shirt problem.. can’t we just trade? Yours is too small, mine is too big, it’s the perfect solution.”

“Uh, well, it’d be against the rules,” Miss Pauling grimaced. "It's a bit.. unhygienic."

"Unhygienic?" Jeremy scoffed. "Are you callin' me dirty? My name is Jeremy, not Germy; I'm clean!"

Miss Pauling drew her lips in a tight line, looking between the two men and analyzing the situation.

A long pause.

A sigh.

"Fine. I don't care; take your shirts off. But this is a special case—don't go switching shirts with the others all willy nilly after this."

Jacques breathed a sigh of relief, unfolding his arms. "Thank you both."

Jeremy pulled his shirt off, handing it out to Jacques. "Well, here you go." The other gingerly accepted it.

Jacques cleared his throat, eyes turned towards the staff member. "May I change in the bathroom?"

Miss Pauling smiled, pulling out her keys. "Of course."

The two headed down the hall, and the shirtless Jeremy turned to the others in the day room and gave a thumbs up. They gawked at him. Tavish may or may not have mouthed 'what the fuck'. He could faintly hear Mundy's whistle.

Jacques quickly returned, giving Jeremy the small shirt. "Thank you, Jeremy. Sincerely."

He pulled the shirt on, not before flexing his nonexistent muscles to the day room inhabitants. "No prob."

With another crazy incident solved, the three headed back inside.

Pyro proudly displayed their colored rendition of Jeremy's dragon. Colored purple and pink with a gold underbelly, and they had even drawn a background! A small castle could be seen in the distance, with the sun shining through the clouds, beaming down on the dragon and the field of flowers it was sitting on. They added a rainbow for good measure.

"Wow," was all Jeremy could say. He took a seat, holding the paper in his hands, inspecting every fleck of crayon. "Wow. This is… unbelievable. This is sweet! You could be like, the next Picasso or somethin'."

Pyro giggled, putting their head in their hands to hide their blush.

The four of them looked up to the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Misha had pulled up his seat to their table.

"Hello." He took a blank page. "I'm going to draw."

"Right on," Tavish said, still coloring his princess.

Misha picked up a pencil, which was comically small for his large hands. He stared at his paper, unsure where to start. Jeremy discreetly watched him work as he made another drawing for Pyro to color.

After a while of unsure lines and smudged erasing, Misha growled and put his pencil down.

Jeremy frowned. "You alright, big guy?"

"Am not very good at art."

"Well.. everyone starts somewhere. You'll get the hang of it!"

Misha huffed. "This is too frustrating. I like cards better."

"Don't stress yourself out," Dell offered. "I'll join you if you wanna go back to playin' cards."

Another huff. "You are right.. I wish I did not get angry so easily." He pouted, folding his arms.

"Hey." Jeremy set his pencil aside. "That's why you're here, right? You'll get better, pal." He wasn't the best at being encouraging, but he sure as hell could try.

"Ah.. you are right also. I used to be much angrier when first admitted. Was very grumpy all the time, always mad at something. Always explosive anger. Violent. Now, have made progress I think. Now I know how to have fun!" He laughed, a big booming, hearty laugh that filled the whole room. The others grinned.

"That's good," Jeremy said. "Proud of you, big guy."

"Thanks, little man."

"Ach." Tavish put his crayons back in the bin. "I'm gonna go back to playin' cards."

Dell chuckled. "Givin' up on your pretty princess already?"

"Ah, shut up. If there's a pretty princess I'm givin' up on, it's you." He started dragging his chair to the other table.

"I'm gonna join them," Jeremy announced, sliding his recent drawing to Pyro. The remaining patients nodded. Misha stayed at the art table, giving his drawing a second shot.

Jacques, Mundy, and Tavish were gathered at the other table; Jane had joined the artists. Jeremy sat next to Mundy.

"What are we playin'?"

"Crazy eights." Jacques was shuffling the cards. "You do know how to play, right?"

"Uh, duh. What do I look like, someone who doesn't know how to play crazy eights?"

"You look like you would struggle to pour water out of a boot with instructions written on the heel." Jacques smirked, all in good fun. He began dealing.

"So," Jeremy began quietly, "Mundy, why exactly are you here? I mean.. I know it's 'cause of the.. attempt and all, but.. Like, why?"

"I dunno." Mundy shrugged, but obviously he did know. He filed through his cards. "I could ask you the same thing, mate."

"I guess you could." He leaned back, surveying his card options for his turn. "Well.. Things have been bad for a while now. I dunno why. It's just.. I'm havin' a hard time finding friends and all, and I was real lonely and just.. real sad, I guess. Everything felt repetitive and borin', and like there was no point to it. No end goal. I didn't wanna do nothin' no more. Not even baseball, and I freakin' love baseball. I just spent so much time in my room doin' nothing.. I thought, 'well, what's the point of livin' if I don't even like it?' So, I guess that's why I did what I did." He casually put a card down.

Mundy stared at his cards, expression unreadable. "For me, one day I just sat down and thought, 'wow. I'm nearly thirty years old and I've done jack shit with my life.' I thought I was an absolute bloody idiot; I never had a real job, I just liked to fuck around in the wilderness. The only thing I'm really good for is snipin', and I thought unless I found out how to become an assassin, I was shit outta luck. Didn't realize I have the rest of my life to turn it around; I thought, 'well, I wasted it, time to end it.' So that's why _I_ did what I did."

Jeremy frowned. "Sorry." He picked at the peeling edge of one of his cards. "Didn't you say you've been hospitalized before? What happened the other times?"

Another shrug. "Self harm. It's been a long, fucked up time comin'."

"High five," Tavish said, making no effort to hold his hand up.

"Yeah, what are you here for?" Jeremy resisted the urge to tack on 'cyclops' at the end. It would've been in affection, but he was afraid the other man was insecure about his eye. Or rather, lack of.

"Well, first I was in rehab for alcoholism." He placed a card down. "Then they shipped me off here to deal with the root of me alcoholism; depression, anxiety, that sort of fun stuff. I think I'm doin' better now."

"That's cool."

The trio glanced in Jacques direction; the only one who was yet to share. Jeremy wondered if anyone knew his.. secret.

"I suppose you all want to know why I'm here." He shuffled through his cards, placing one down. "Same thing as Tavish, minus the alcoholism. Alright, well, maybe a little bit of alcoholism. I may have gone overboard with the wine one too many times. I was just feeling very.. stuck. Miserable and alone. I wanted to drink and smoke myself away, or at least this body." He winced. "I can't even call it mine. It's just.. not right."

Tavish raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of water, but said nothing; Mundy kept staring at his cards; Jacques sighed.

"I really just want to get out of here. I won't get better being trapped in this place—what I really need is to find someone to fix this body, and there sure as hell isn't anyone like that in here."

"I hear ye, lad."

Jacques nodded. "Right. Now that we've got our sob stories sorted, let's focus on the game."

 

Closing group time.

They were each given a series of questions: Did you accomplish your goal? Do you know what medications you take? Who's your doctor? How are you feeling? What are your plans after discharge?

Jeremy's turn.

"Did you accomplish your goal?" Tavish, tonight's leader, asked.

Jeremy considered it. Had he really gotten to know everybody? He could list what everyone was here for, what they like to do, what their job was if they had one, what their personality was like…

Everyone.. except Pyro.

"..Not yet."

"Yet," Tavish commented, erasing Jeremy's goal from the board. "I like the determination, lad. Do ye know what medications ye take?"

Yes. Dr. Ludwig. Content but tired. Play some freakin' baseball.

After everyone finished answering, Miss Pauling brought out a box of sealed PB&Js. She handed one out to everyone, save Mundy, who got an orange.

Jeremy watched in amusement as Pyro excitedly unwrapped theirs, practically stuffing the whole thing into their mouth. Gosh, they really were just a kid at heart.. Poor fella. They didn't deserve to be in a place like this.

"Alright, everyone." Miss Pauling held the door open. "Whoever's ready to go to bed, go to bed. Night night. Bedtime."

The patients filed out, some lingering behind to finish their snack. Jeremy and Pyro entered their room, heading to their beds.

Jeez, this blanket was itchy. And his wristband made a horrible noise when it brushed against it. Ugh. He'd probably have to ask for melatonin tomorrow; no way he'd be able to fall asleep again in these conditions unmedicated.

"..Hey."

Pyro half rolled over, clearly not expecting to be talked to. "Huh?"

"What are you here for?"

"Oh." Pyro sat up, and so did Jeremy. They gingerly moved the hair out of their face, and even in the dim lighting, he could make out the burn scars covering it. They cleared their throat. "Um.. Self harm.. Hallucinations.." Now that they weren't speaking so softly, Jeremy noticed how scratchy their voice was. Maybe they were so quiet because it hurt to talk? Or maybe they were just shy.. Or both?

"Yeah, the self harm bit.. I've been there." He traced his fingers along his wrist. "Are they scary hallucinations?"

Pyro looked away, hair covering their face again. "Sometimes. But mostly they're harmless.. They're cute things. Unicorns and rainbows and things.. But they're still.. not right. That's what the doctor says—that's what everyone says. I don't wanna make them disappear, but I don't wanna be.. not right. I don't want the scary hallucinations, though. I wish I could keep the happy stuff."

Jeremy fiddled with his wristband. He didn't know how to comfort them; he'd never known anyone like this. "Sorry about that. How long have you been here?"

"..A while." They coughed. "I keep having.. 'incidents', so they keep me longer." A sniffle. "I wanna go home."

"Whoah—" Were they crying? "Hey, it's okay, bud. Py?"

Pyro wiped their eyes. "I'm fine.. I just miss home. It's scary here sometimes. Every door is locked and we're on a schedule and if you don't eat something it gets written down and you have to stay longer even if you don't even like the food you didn't eat unless you're allergic to it like Mundy then it's okay but otherwise—" They took a breath. That was one long sentence. "Sometimes they have a shortage on food so you have a small dinner and it's just ravioli and you don't eat it because you don't like ravioli but that was the only thing served so you get marked for not eating any dinner at all and you cry but the staff doesn't really care except Miss Pauling because she's nice and she sneaks you a PB&J and—" Another breath. Another long sentence. "And yeah. I miss home. It's nice and warm and comfortable and  _mine_ and I can do whatever I want there anytime and nobody will tell me I have to eat ravioli."

"True that." Words of wisdom. "Well, I hope you get to go home soon. I wanna go home too. But while we're here, let's make the most of it! We are gonna be the best of freakin' friends."

Pyro grinned; not their usual shy smile—a big genuine grin. "I like that idea."

"Let's hit the hay. We got a big day of bein' BFFs tomorrow. Goodnight, Pyro."

"Goodnight, Jeremy."

Jeremy settled back into bed, gazing out the window and at the moon. It was full, and it was beautiful.

He was gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> thxx 4 reading plz like comment and subscribe;!!!!!!  
> ok fr if u stuck through this.. i love u. pls leave a comment if u can. it would make me very happy


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